


Drowned Rats

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angels, Curses, Demons, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-13
Updated: 2004-08-13
Packaged: 2020-05-15 12:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19295728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: Crowley has a small curse problem.





	Drowned Rats

Aziraphale was engaged in his favourite solitary self-indulgence, going through antiquarian booksellers' catalogues and feeling smug that his stock was so much better, when the shop door opened with a crash.

"We're closed," Aziraphale yelled, sticking his head into the main room. "Oh. Crowley -- you're all wet and muddy! Don't you _dare_ lean on anything." He walked round the dripping demon, who was somehow giving off an air of certainty that come the new season _everyone_ would be traipsing around with bits of river weed hanging from their clothes. "What have you been doing?" Aziraphale said, eyes wide.

"I thought I'd enjoy a spot of boating. I'm just back from the Fens," Crowley said, off-hand.

"Boating? In the open air? You?" Aziraphale asked, his voice rising a little higher on each question.

Crowley grinned, and spat out a small water snail. "It was very invigorating."

"Hmmm," Aziraphale said suspiciously. "And why are you still wet -- don't sit on that, I haven't done the crossword yet!"

"Ah," Crowley said, carefully standing on the exact spot Aziraphale had indicated as appropriate for streaming wet visitors to stand. "I was hoping you might be able to help me with that. You see, I've got into a slight spot of being cursed."

"Richly deserved, no doubt," Aziraphale muttered, running up to his bathroom and bringing down every last towel he owned. Crowley obligingly helped him spread them out and then stood on them, water dripping down from his stylishly ruined suit and spraying around when he made casual gestures.

"So you'll fix this?"

"How did it happen?" Aziraphale said irritably.

"Well, let's see. I was visiting one of the locals, seeing what sort of returns on souls and so on there were to report - don't look at me like that, I'm sure I told you - and I thought we were getting on quite well. This came as a bit of a shock, really."

"He wasn't very friendly?" Aziraphale asked, guiltily miracling the towels dry again.

"Oh she was friendly all right," Crowley said with a sort of far-away smile. "Very friendly indeed."

"Crowley! You have _got_ to stop sleeping with demonesses!"

"Why? The job has to have _some_ perks," Crowley said, replacing the smile with a sulky expression.

"It's not nice. She was friendly, you were saying?"

"Very," Crowley said. He looked over the top of his glasses and winked. "Want an introduction? Oh, all right, stop looking like you've sucked a lemon. Yes, I thought we were getting along very well, she said she hadn't had so much fun since she drowned a whole sailboat full of disgusting kids in the 1920s. Next thing I know, I'm dripping my way all the way back to London."

"Well, you must have done _something_ ," Aziraphale said, "not that I don't think that demons aren't petty minded and over eager to take offence at the smallest thing, but really, dear boy, you can be infuriating in more than the smallest dose. What did you do?"

"Nothing," Crowley said in a petty and offended voice. "Well," he continued in a considering tone, "I suppose she might have been a bit upset about me not reporting _any_ of her work as being actually done by her - not that she should be surprised, I mean, if someone said to you, "Here are my numbers, see you next century" would _you_ remember not to cheat? I don't _think_ so. Anyway, I think it was me saying it was a good thing she was a water demon, she'd never be able to support that bulk on dry land that really upset her."

"Mmm-hmmm," Aziraphale said. "I'll never know why you have any success with women at all."

"They like the car," Crowley smirked.

"Good job you don't have to rely on your personality. So you were incredibly rude and probably thought you'd made a great joke, is that it?"

Crowley looked about as embarrassed as someone who's never felt a moment's embarrassment in his eternally long life. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and gave him his best admonishing glare. After a good fifteen minutes, Crowley sighed.

"OK, OK. It was really rude. I'm a terrible person and I promise I'll never say that to anyone again, OK?"

The water stopped streaming down his lapels and his sunglasses unfogged. Aziraphale smiled happily as the wooden floor dried up nicely and the humidity level in the shop went down considerably. Crowley picked a last shred of duckweed out of his teeth and gave a complicated shrug that ended in him being dressed in a different, bone-dry suit.

"Let that be a lesson to you," Aziraphale said. "Be polite to ladies, even if they are demonesses." He paused, and looked puzzled. "Why would a demon want to take on female form, anyway?"

"Lilith explained it to me once," Crowley said. "She waits till some guy's being really patronising and then rips his guts out. Says the look on their face is always priceless. And she never has to put up shelves herself. Right. Now that that's been sorted out, d'you want to go for a drink?"

Aziraphale decided that his catalogues would always keep for another day, and nodded.

"I assume you won't be putting water in your scotch tonight?" he asked with an evil smile.

"Absolutely not," Crowley agreed, and ushered him out to the by now quite dry and comfortable car.


End file.
